Red String
by DarkestAngellic
Summary: Sometimes your soul mate isn't who you think it is.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor anything mentioned, from Twilight. They are the property of Stephanie Meyer and I make no profit from this piece of fanfiction.**_

* * *

_I never did give much thought to the idea of soul mates before I met Alice. There was no reason to, given that my introduction to this life was a brutal affair, the decades following steeped in nothing but violence and death. But then Peter and Charlotte happened, and it opened my eyes to something I had lost sight of during my time under Maria's thumb._

_From them I tasted fear, yes, but there was a very strong undercurrent of love, and a fleeting sense of happiness. I did not linger on it of course, given that Maria wanted them dead, but that brief taste of something forgotten and infinitely sweet changed me. Perhaps it simply awakened a part of my being Maria had managed to smother into submission – loathe as I am to the very idea that she partially succeeded in her plans for me._

_ When I eventually met Alice I was . . . searching for something. A reason to exist beyond the senseless murder I had left behind just as I had Maria. At the time I did not know what it was, just that I was looking. But then I met her, the tiny pixie with the jet black hair and the softest of smiles. All it took was a glance and that first taste of her emotional state, and I never looked back. Her hand found mine and I followed her without question._

_ In those early years with Alice . . . we both thought we were soul mates. She from the path her visions had taken; focussed solely on me as they had been since the moment she fully transitioned, and I . . . I did not know what else to think, given how new the peace was, the love. I had forgotten that emotion, something capable of warming even my dead heart, completely and utterly erased from my knowledge just as my life as a human had been. The love I felt for Alice, shared with Alice . . . I lacked a basis for comparison, except for that brief taste of Peter and Charlotte's connection. I remember telling myself during those years that it was different for every couple, and speaking of it with Alice only served to further this belief given that she, too, was clueless about the love between true soul mates._

_ That belief system was flipped on its head when she dragged my sorry ass to meet the Cullens. Changed when I met her and Alice met Emmett. She still has not found her soul mate – I have told her this – but she is content with the bear of a man and I will not deny her the happiness she deserves._

* * *

_There is a theory I agree with, having stumbled upon it once in the confines of Carlisle's study and hidden in the knowledge of books. It is that of the red string of fate – that it binds two people together. It will become twisted through time, yes, it can become tangled with the strings of others, yes, but it will not break and, eventually, will unite the two people it is attached to. I firmly believe in this theory despite my misgivings about fate itself. How else would I have stumbled upon Rosalie? Had I not encountered Maria, I would have died before we could cross paths. Had I not become a vampire, I never would have had a reason to travel beyond my home state. Had Alice not taken my hand, I would have remained a lost soul wandering without purpose, I could have missed Rosalie time and time again. And, as much as I hurt for the unspeakable horror she was subjected to, had she not been turned into a vampire we never would have met. Had she not met Emmett, she might not have survived this long with the dark wolves from her past lingering in wait to savage her in moments of unguarded vulnerability._

_ Like Alice was my light in the darkest hours of my existence to date, so too was Emmett Rosalie's light. For keeping her sane through those years, for being her safe haven against the raging storm of her thoughts and memories . . . I will be eternally grateful._

_ So many times our string could have snapped or been forcefully severed, and yet it has survived the harshness of time to unite us._

* * *

_I will always remember our first meeting, Rosalie and I. Not because it was something spectacular, nor because anything out of the ordinary happened, but because I could see in her eyes what others were blind to. The ember of something great, a spark of steel and defiance. I remember she confused me back then, for what I could see in her gaze did not match what I could sense from her emotions. She was . . . a darker soul. Something had jaded her, hurt her, forced her to create walls blockading everyone and everything out, except for the unintentionally invasive quality of my . . . gift. While she was outwardly calm, with a touch of irritation, there was something much larger beneath the surface, something dangerous, looming, threatening to suffocate her at a moment's notice. And that was it. Everyone said their greetings after Alice explained why we had suddenly arrived on their doorstep, handshakes were exchanged, we were welcomed, and from there it was simply a case of integrating into the established family._

_ Looking back, I realise that there was something between Rosalie and I even in those moments. I cannot speak for her, but I know I was oblivious to it. There was no spark when our hands touched, no rush of warmth, no inexplicable immediate connection. There was absolutely nothing to suggest that she and I were meant to be partners. Rather . . . it was a gradual process with us._

_ Perhaps it was given a chance to bloom the first time she suffered a flashback while auditory witness to an argument between Edward and Alice, her emotions falling into a fast downward spiral even as she physically crumpled. It drew me to her, curled up as she was, how quickly she fell apart, and without any conscious decision on my part I tried to help her with my ability. I earned a fist to the face for my efforts once she had recovered, granted, but it was a step in the right direction, considering she mentioned her past to me when she and I eventually went hunting together, just the two of us._

_ The rest of the family believed her a broken porcelain doll, I had too, to start with. But Rosalie has never been a porcelain doll and she has never been broken. Violently attacked and subjected to one of the worst horrors a woman could possible suffer, yes. Damaged, yes. Scarred beyond complete repair, yes, but not broken. Rosalie Lillian Hale was a fighter as a human and a fighter as a vampire. Her strength was not physical, but rather in the straight line of her spine even when afraid of confrontation with the men in the family; in the calm voice detailing the reasons for her change into a vampire; in the fire burning bright when another's would have been snuffed out; the fierce determination to fight the wolves of her mind, break the chains of her past, live._

_ She is one of the strongest women I have ever met, and I realised it that same day I learned of her past. The same day I made the decision to teach her how to fight. The promise that never again would she be unable to defend herself against those who would mean her harm. The oath to myself that as long as I existed no man would touch her without her permission._

* * *

_Alice was my guide when I had lost my way. Emmett was Rosalie's guardian when she needed defending._

_ They are family and more to us._

_ But my red string is Rosalie's red string._

_ Two damaged souls that were never truly broken, learning to heal with the help of each other._

_ She is mine._

_ And I am forever hers._

- Jasper Whitlock


End file.
